


Couplets and Crime Lords

by MetalandMagic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars - The Force Awakens
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookseller!Ben, Flirting, Fluff, Hux is actually a sweetheart, Hux is done with everyone's shit, Kylux Big Bang 2018, M/M, OOC, Organized Crime, Out of Character, Phasma is kind of a bamf, ben is a cinnamon roll, but also kind of insane, instant crush, mafia!au, selfindulgent fluff piece, we all hate Brendol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-07-23 04:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetalandMagic/pseuds/MetalandMagic
Summary: [Kylux Mini Bang 2018] After college, Ben Solo moved to the big city to help care for his Uncle Luke's bookshop. He has dreams of becoming a recognized author and having his life's work published. While down on his luck, the son of an ageing crime-lord--Armitage Hux stumbles his way into Ben's shop. Their fate is sealed as instant flirting commences as both fall hard for one another. Soon Ben becomes involved in Armitage's underworld all the while Armitage seeks happiness away from his lonely life, his Father, and a cruel upbringing that still plagues him, alongside Ben. Many thanks to (the-pudding-is-a-lie) for their amazing artwork!





	1. A Father's Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is finally done! I have not written such a long story in so long, so I was a bit rusty. But considering I wrote all the chapters at 2am after my full time job, it's not too shabby! Please enjoy.  
> Artist: the-pudding-is-a-lie  
> tumblr: the-pudding-is-a-lie.tumblr.com

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Armitage Hux

The office was very quiet.

An eerie undertone of calmness radiated throughout the room; a hyperbolic contradiction of the previous twenty minutes. The echoes of a past tongue lashing from the head of the Hux household bounced brutally betwixt the expensive furnishings and the occupant’s reddened ears. It was not the first time nor shall it be the last, that Brendol Hux, the Supreme head of the Hux family and Mob boss—had felt the need to berate his only son and child by voicing his dissatisfaction in Armitage’s work.

The cigarette gripped tightly between Armitage Hux’s lips began to crumble on the pristine mahogany desk—missing the tray completely, perhaps burning the superior wood. Armitage did not normally smoke, only when his nervous system sent a signal of lugubriousness to his overworked brain, which to be fair, had been happening a lot more often recently.

Armitage’s black gloved fingers flicked out to sweep the gray ashes into now cold cup of coffee; swirling in the over sweetened liquid in lazy tendrils. One last puff and it was finished.

The red-haired man crushed the stinking, ashen paper into the tray with a hard, stern grimace that furrowed his face; the fine wrinkles he currently wears, deepening.

Armitage Hux’s father, Brendol was not one for coddling nor for soft words and understanding. The hand of a disapproving father is heavy and burned with the sting of high expectations. Many a times in his youth, Armitage’s cheek felt the burden of said hand and its swift bite during his father’s lessons.

_‘A son of Brendol Hux is one of excellence and I expect nothing less!’_

Reaching for a bruise that was not there-- Armitage ghosted his fingers across his face. It had been years since his father had struck him, but the memory of his teachings remains defined; engrained into his very bones. From the paleness of his skin to the deep chill in his eyes, Armitage is a product of his father’s instruction and his mother’s birth; God rest her soul. Even as a full-grown man, the scars of his pubescence endured.

Now nearly 30 minutes earlier—Brendol steamrolled his way into Armitage’s private quarters, eyes steely and tongue sharp with discouragement—all aimed at his only son, Armitage.

_[‘How you handled the meeting with the Bratva was shameful. You NEVER show weakness to Pakhan or the Brotherhood. You gave too much and received so little.’_

_‘The Pakhan is a valuable ally. If the Pakhan is happy that means more routes are opened to us in European territory. I showed no such weakness; in my eyes it is an even trade. Perhaps you are far too senile to understand my decisions.’_  
_‘_

_…For access to our own advantages! Having the upper hand over the other mob families is what keeps us ALIVE! And you saw the need to open those secrets to the Bratva!’_

_‘Yes, Father. One loaf of bread for another of a different flavor. The Pakhan had interest in the South-Eastern regions, but the Yakuza reign in those particular areas—and because of MY diplomacy, I have a fairly good relationship with Oyabun after saving his idiot son from an overdose in France. A relationship YOU collect the spoils from might I add! It is all about seeing an opportunity and taking it.’ His voice ever raising, Armitage slams a fist onto his desk. ‘So, NO, I do not think I received the short end of the stick because now I can travel freely through Kazakhstan with minimal checkpoints. I did not offer success in the Pakhan’s endeavors, I merely opened a line for him with the Oyabun. I weep to know how small minded my Father is while he boasts about the Hux empire even though he forgets even the smallest detail can make all the difference!’_

_‘One day you will learn, you disgraceful boy. Make too many pacts and you will be buried under the weight of their obligations…’]_

“A disgraceful boy?” Rising from his seat behind the very expensive desk with the old tobacco staining its finish—Armitage fixed his collar and collected his wallet, keys, and a light black coat with the intention of clearing his head in the chilled air. Winter was not too far away but just enough that heavier outer clothing is not yet needed. “If I am a disgrace, you are the architect of such a failure.”

_‘Has he never heard of a trade deal?!’_ Armitage thought viciously.

Locking his office, he tugged on the golden doorknob to insure its security. One foot in front of the other, Armitage Hux took long strides down the hallway, briskly passing photos of older leaders of the Hux family-- a photo of his birth with his mother smiling weakly but lovingly into the camera, a tiny bundle wailing in her arms. Another family photo, Armitage no older than four or five, holding his Mother’s hand at a park, children in the background playing on a swing set, the young boy is smiling so largely that his teeth seemed almost too big for his tiny mouth. At the end of the hall, before reaching the spiraling staircase, one last photo was nailed to the wall.

Two figures stand side by side.

No touching.  
No hugging.  
No smiles.

A boy of ten with neatly combed red hair with a blank expression, in black suit and trousers and a plain black tie. No happiness of youth broadcasted from this boy, only melancholy and loneliness. His fists balled at his sides and lips bitten by his teeth to keep the cries of mourning from breaking out. To his left is a stoic man, dressed similarly, eyes brimmed with age and a mouth in thin unwelcoming line. His hair had the faintest tint of salt and pepper, yet combed just as tidy as the boy’s next to him. His arms held behind his straightened back, shoulders squared. They were the pinnacle of estrangement and forlorn.

Briskly making his way down the steps, Armitage reached for the front door.

“Sir, are you going out?” Dopheld Mitaka, the son of the Hux’s family deceased head of staff, stood in pressed clothing, white gloves and rosy cheeks. Dopheld was rather young, only 22 yet the profession of Head of Staff was assigned to him after his father’s untimely death; a sudden heart attack that came swiftly in the night not but four months ago. Dopheld was to make sure the maids had the mansion spotless, the butlers tended to the guests and stocked necessary household items, the gardeners kept the plant life trimmed and garden gazebos painted. Dopheld was a quiet soul and at times, meek and small-- but when it came to his duties and to the Hux family, he stood tall and proud; sometimes even surprising Armitage. Dopheld’s father never once let Brendol down when it came to running the house, and so neither shall he for Armitage. “Do you need me to have the car pulled around?”

“Ah, no thank you Dopheld, to be honest…I would rather I drove myself. I need some fresh air and I cannot do that with a driver pressing an ear to the windows. No offence to Henry.”

  
“I am sure he will take none to that. Just, please Sir,” Dopheld reached into his black and white dress coat and out pulled a shiny, but well used glock. Armitage’s glock. “Do be careful.”

  
A tiny smirk found its way to Armitage’s face as he took the weapon and holstered it into his side. “Should I even ask...?”

  
“I thought it looked a bit dull and needed a shine, Sir. Must always look your best while going into public while also being protected,” Dopheld rolled onto the balls of his feet. His nervous tell.

  
“You knew I was heading out because you heard the argument this morning, didn’t you?”

  
“Err..the walls... Are not exactly soundproof, Sir.” Dopheld looked to his shoes in sudden shame, “If it means anything to you, Sir. I think you made the right decision when it came to the Russians. Master Brendol is, ahem, may I speak freely?”  
Armitage gave a curt nod, “of course. I respect your opinion.”

Dopheld’s eyes brightened as he stood straight and flat footed. While nearly a decade his junior, Dopheld and Armitage were good friends. Dopheld saw Armitage as not only his boss and superior but as an older brother figure. Being an only child, Dopheld would sneak away from his father’s guidance as Head of Staff in search of a teenage Armitage, begging the ginger haired teen to play action figures with him or read short stories together not realizing he was pestering the son of a mob boss. While stoicism was his trademark most of the time, Armitage could not help but take a liking to this small black-haired boy with rosy-freckled cheeks and obliged in his childish demands.

“Master Brendol is very old-fashioned. He is an isolationist in his tactics. He rarely if ever lets his guard down in fear of betrayal, whether it be personal or professional. I am still surprised he allowed the accord with the Yakuza stand.”

“I understand that Dopheld, but we need to make ties with others in our profession or else we will be left with no one to watch our backs. Of course, I am not going to rely one-hundred percent on another family. What father does not know is that I have already turned a significant profit with the Russians. I cannot wait to rub it in his face once the wire hits the accounts. The only sound louder that a gunshot is the sound of a pen on a checkbook in our world. And considering how many guns I sold in Kazakhstan, we might need ear plugs once the funds come in.”

With a legitimate smile, Dopheld picked a small ball of lint off Armitage’s shoulder, there has yet to be a speck of dirt that escaped Dopheld’s sight. “I am sure he will take notice one way or another. I do believe you deserve some time to yourself. Anyway, Sir, I am holding you hostage. I won’t keep you any longer.”  
Dopheld, with an arm behind his back, opened the large entrance door for his boss and slightly bowed, “Go on before I talk your ear off. Please take heed.”

Armitage took one step outside before turning back to Dopheld’s rosy face, “Dopheld, please keep this between us, hm?” With a nod and wink, Armitage was on his way to the large garage that housed his automobile collection.

_‘What should I take out today?’_

Whether it be from a sense of duty, worry or something else—Dopheld remained at the door; watching Armitage make his way into the garage unit, selecting the cherry red Lamborghini Veneno with the custom-made Italian leather interior and speeding down the long driveway which led to the guarded gates that opened with nary a squeak into the open world; Hux was free.

Armitage never took notice of Dopheld’s rosy cheeks blooming a deeper shade of red.

But it could have been caused by the crisp Autumn sun.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Author’s Notes}  
Bratva- The Russian mafia  
Pakhan-The Head or God Father of the Russian mafia  
Yakuza-The Japanese Mafia  
Oyabun-Head or God Father of the Japanese mafia


	2. A Mother's Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The appearance of Ben Solo

Ben Solo had big dreams.

Dreams so big that only the notebooks his parents bought him on a weekly basis could contain them all. Dozens and dozens of spiral notebooks scattered his desk like ships at sea embarking on their maiden voyage. The notebooks were crammed in his closet, stuffed under the bed in cardboard boxes, some even found a way to infiltrate his father’s personal bathroom connected in the garage where Han Solo would soup up his engines.

The notebooks were Ben’s children as well as his livelihood. College life was rather dull for Ben—well from the perspective of an outsider; but not to Ben. While his roommates went finagling about with fellow students, dabbling in alcohol and sex—Ben was writing. Not that Ben is a dull person, but kept to himself rather than taking the risk of missing out on a moment of inspiration to scribble into a fresh notebook.

Now college is over. Having procured a very expensive piece of paper proving to the world that Ben could indeed use correct grammar, use spellcheck, and regurgitate Moby Dick on demand—Ben gathered his children and made his way to the city in search of fortune. Skip to six years after college, Ben has yet to place his mantle next to Tolkien, Rowling, Bradbury and Pratchett. Discouragement was a flavor Ben was beginning to become accustomed too. It was sour and bitter all at once, and with every rejection letter Ben’s tongue became saturated with it. Manuscript after manuscript, hours of editing and re-arranging, Ben never stopped writing and sending in his stories.

After some time, Ben struck some minor luck. Small publications either took pity on Ben or needed to make a quota, dispersed his short stories in a collection with other amateur writers with similar dreams. While this collection book was not his ticket to fame, it was a step in the right direction of getting his name out there among the literary hungry. With time, Ben Solo’s name—rather his alias of Ben Organa—is whispered about in online forums and blogs dedicated to Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre lovers.

In the collections, Ben’s short story, _A Tadpole Among the Waves_ , received great praise in smaller groups in such forums and other ‘indie’ type circles. Unfortunately, the praise was not loud enough to alarm the ears of mainstream publishers. Publishers were looking for the next Harry Potter and Hunger Games. Books that are not only good, but stories that can carry a franchise. Ben himself did not care if his stories do not grace the silver screen, rather he wanted his stories to resonate in the imagination of everyone who reads them. Most of his own childhood, Ben was engulfed with adventures of loyalty, magic and adventure. He alongside his fictional companions, defeated Smaug the dragon. Discovered magical relics. Learned incantations. And yet… his own adventures did not appeal to the right people. Now he sat behind a very old chipping desk of his ageing uncle’s second-hand bookshop.

The aspiring author’s brain raced and raced.

  _‘Don’t ever stop writing, Ben.’_

_‘I won’t, Mom. I still need to make that dedication to you when I finally make it big.’_

_‘Hey! Don’t forget about your, Old Man!’_

 

Moving out of his parent’s home, Ben was hoping to experience life in the city in search of inspiration for his first great novel. His Mother of course shed a few tears and his Father clapped a hand on his shoulder and wished him the best of luck. Even with the current situation of being unsuccessful in procuring a contract with a large publisher, Ben continued to write—if a bit dismayed. It wasn’t all bad. Taking refuge at **Two Suns Bookstore** , Ben can breathe in the mustiness of ancient tomes from writer’s past, with minimal human interaction, and plenty of quiet time. The rent was dirt cheap with his family discount, his uncle often joked about, so money was not too much of an issue unless you take in the factor that Uncle Luke was unable to pay him a decent wage. Which is also alright since Ben took on freelance editing jobs for local papers for extra cash. So, another day at Ben’s dearest Uncle’s bookshop. Pushing the flats of his palms into his eye sockets, Ben rubbed his eyelids wearily.

 

Sitting alone in this old bookshop, the melodic trill of his mother’s advice reiterated through his aching skull. _‘Ben, I love you, do what makes you happy. But…if you have to come home, come home.’_   Once again, Ben sighed what felt to be the hundredth time today, tapping his pen against the notebook, sitting uncomfortably on top of a wooden stool the young author grunted in frustration. In front of him on the desk, next to his notebook, with nary a word upon its pages besides the name of **_Ben Organa_** -Untitled, in the top left-hand corner—was a viciously opened letter.

 

**Dark Knight Publishing**

**66 Main Street**

**City Center**

 

Ben had practically memorized the publisher’s rejection letter for his proposals. _“Dear Mr. Ben Organa, We at Knight Publishing we would like to thank you for sending in your proposal and manuscript. We understand the hard work and dedication prospering authors like yourself take pride—_ (blah blah blah)— _unfortunately at this time we must reject……..….”_

The letter was obviously spat out from some automatic response system. It is always the same letter every time. All Publishing companies have their own rejection letter set-up, but similar enough to recognize that no actual human being took the time to type out Ben’s failure and mail it to him. So again, Ben sits in his Uncle’s store, jotting down whatever pops into his head that can possibly convince a publishing house to accept his vision. Should he change the hero? Modify the villain? Scrap the whole thing? But in his heart, Ben did not want to change his story much knowing that his soul went into this particular manuscript. Hours of dreaming and typing molded the story as it is now and it was rejected. It is difficult to not take the rejections personally when so much of yourself goes into your writing, this could not ring any truer for Ben. Especially since this story is based off his own family history, and the struggles they endured to become the people they are today. This story, while still untitled—was his contribution to his family’s legacy.

_‘You can always come home...’_

“I’m not changing a **damn** thing.”

_‘…do what makes you happy…’_

Hot tears were beginning to pool behind Ben’s lids.

_‘Don’t forget about your Old Man when you get rich and famous, kid.’_

**_‘…at this time, we unfortunately must reject your proposal and manuscript. While we do respect the choices made by the author, we do not feel that your proposal is the best fit for our publishing house in its current form. Please feel free to contact our offices should you have any inquiries regarding our decision.’_ **

“Fuck…just….FUCK.” Rubbing the back of his neck with a friction that can only be attainable by mind boggling stress; Ben quickly stood from his stool, knocking it over with a thud, balling up his rejection letter and grabbing his poor notebook, Ben let out an anguished grunt and threw the materials at the window near the entrance door. Ben did not hear the tiny bell above the entrance door give out the ring it typically sings when a patron crossed its hallowed threshold.


	3. Imperatrix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The female head of state and supreme commander in the Roman Empire, in whose name all victories were won.

The city is as rambunctious as ever.

  
In and out they go; customers of all kinds peruse the wares being peddled by the various storefronts and shops.  
Cafes, sweet shops, convenience stores, florists, and store fronts of other varieties litter the edge of the side walk Armitage was currently following. In search of nothing in particular, Armitage allowed his brain to wonder off alone unattended for the time being.

  
_‘There’s that deli that Father used to bamboozle out of their rent every month. Very 1940s.’_

  
As a child, Armitage would stare out his window, ignoring his schoolbooks, daydreaming of the mobsters of old. His Great-Grandfather, Grandfather and Father—what must they have been like before modern conveniences and police enforcement hindered their ventures. Swathed in pinstripe suits, expensive cologne and gunpowder; his ancestors ruled the mobster’s underground until fractures in the families caused the infrastructure to crumble; putting their legacy into a choke-hold. Brendol Hux’s father, before his timely death, was able to gather the remaining loyal brethren to the Hux family and built the manor Armitage currently resides in with his father. On their hill, the Hux family was able to keep a finger in every pie. Whether it was money loaning or laundering; artillery shipments destined for European shores—the Hux family took a slice from all of them.  
Armitage himself took part in his Father’s endeavors, all the while dabbling in his own plans on a more local scale. Armitage’s fund, wired from Swiss banks, would find its way into a crooked cop’s pocket or a politician’s wallet if it meant eyes would be turned away from his activities.

But today was a quiet day.

  
Or at least it should be.

 

Several yards ahead, Armitage took notice of a very tall, platinum blonde haired woman. Sheathed in a white and gold Chanel pantsuit—Gwendoline Phasma made her way to her silver and chrome Aston Martin Valkyrie, with a balding but very burly man nipping at her equally expensive heels. Finding a lamppost to hide his face, Armitage watched as the bald bodyguard pressed a single button, ordering the gull-wing door that Phasma was currently in front of to open with a silent whoosh.  
Before entering, Armitage was nearly positive that Phasma looked over the tops of her white Gucci pearled sunglasses in his direction.

  
“Ugh, hag.”

 

Gwendoline Phasma was the daughter of a rival mob family, whose Father had died three years prior from a fatal gunshot wound to the chest. The circumstances of his death were still a mystery and yet not considering the career path he led for nearly 40 years. Phasma was named the Matriarch of her family and is the currently reigning leader.

  
Armitage was still under the thumb of his father and Gwendoline never let him forget it whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity. While a full gang war is on-going between the Hux’s and Phasma’s—there has yet to be a kill made from either side. _Yet._ Give or take a couple of shoot outs, stabbings and broken ribs.

  
Gwendoline took her right foot out of her extremely bougie car to tilt her head further in Armitage’s direction.

  
She mouths some words to her goon. The goon closes his side of the car as Gwendoline takes a seat inside. Her muscle was briskly walking towards the sidewalk, nearing Armitage’s location.

  
Grimacing, Armitage took quote of his surroundings. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, at least without his typical backup, Armitage’s hand found its way to an old brass handle of a mildly decrepit bookshop.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely short chapter, but check out that amazing art by the-pudding-is-a-lie! Bamf Phasma is my favourite Phasma. <3


	4. The Besotted

Armitage Hux had been in many hazardous situations during his lifetime.

He had been jumped on the streets by rival thugs in the dead of night as a teenager while out on a bender with classmates. He had been pistol whipped into vertigo during a routine shipment at the docks gone wrong. He has tasted his own blood on his tongue. Other’s blood stained his immaculate suit and shoes...

But never before has he had a balled-up letter and a plain black spiral notebook been thrown at his face whilst taking refuge in an antique bookstore. Both the balled-up letter and notebook clattered to the ground after clunking against the window, several inches from Armitage’s face. His survival instincts kicked in as he reached for the gun Mitaka had given him from his inner jacket pocket, gripping the handle...

“Oh my god! I am SO sorry!”

Armitage’s sense quickly returned as a raven-haired young man with a red face clumsily made his away around his desk towards the disheveled red-head. “I lost my temper and didn’t realize someone was coming through the door!”

Armitage drank in the vision before him. The stranger was tall, if not a smidgen taller than himself if he were not slouching; hair as black as the ink within the books surrounding them, slightly feathering around the man’s face and down his neck. Lips full and pink; face speckled with faint freckles and tiny moles strewn across his pale skin. His clothing was simple—a white tee-shirt that was perhaps a size too large for him, blue jeans and an olive-green bomber jacket tied around his waist; weathered sneakers besieged his rather large feet and a cheap watch hugged his left wrist. Once again, the dark-haired individual apologized for his childish tantrum. Armitage looks to his feet and sees the crumpled mass of paper between him and the embarrassed stranger.

“I know it was just a piece of paper but I probably scared the crap out of you. Are you okay?”

“Armitage.”

“Excuse me--?”

“My name. It’s Armitage. And yes, I am alright. You did give me a bit of a scare. I didn’t exactly think I would be attacked upon entering this store.”

Armitage’s attacker gave an awkward laugh, “well can’t afford security so I do what I can.” Looking down to see the notebook on the floor—looking pathetic and bent at the edges, Ben reached down and took hold of it. “I’m Ben.”

“Ben. Lovely. Do you also need this?”

Armitage made a gesture towards to rumpled ball of paper. Armitage noticed that Ben made a face. “No thanks. That belongs in the garbage.” Ben dusted off his notebook. “Welcome by the way. Before you were viciously attacked, were you looking for anything in particular?”

“Actually…I was just perusing the city today and took notice of this bookstore and it occurred to me that I have never been in here.”

“Well, it is a little—musty. And there is a larger more contemporary store further up the street. We get overshadowed a lot. Most of the books here are extremely old and don’t adhere to the younger crowds typically. But it’s my Uncle’s place and he lets me stay here for dirt cheap while I get back on my feet. Ehh, sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Don’t apologize. I can tell you care for your Uncle a great deal.” Ben’s face reddened once more, “yeah. I do.”

“So, Ben, tell me, what would you recommend?”

“Depends. What do you like to read? Genre wise.” Armitage took another step into the shop and looked around and gave a quirk of a smile. The smell of aged books was a favorite of his. In his Father’s manor, there was a small personal library with books written in multiple languages and scriptures. On cold rainy days, Armitage would find solace in the library’s collection. The pages were well worn from decade’s worth of finger prints flipping through its pages. The smell of a time before himself perfumed each page and filled the air. It was comforting after his Mother had died and his Father locking himself up in his sanctum alone.

“I am up for anything really. Mystery, fantasy, historical—and I am no stranger to a good romance as well,” the young mobster removed his gloves and placed them in his pocket. Picking up a weathered old book from a random shelf, Armitage fingered the spine. The title was quite worn, but in gold filigree it read~

_**Divina Commedia** _

 

“Well this brings back memories,” Armitage opened up the old book. It was completely in Italian, and while not fluent enough to read word for word, he had this ancient poem mostly memorized from his teen-hood.

“Fan of Signore Dante Alighieri?”

“My Father would assign this to me every summer as a child.”

“Oh…”

“I still took interest in it though. I found that I read it differently every time I opened it up. Not many stories can do that. It is also probably the most quotable book I have ever read.”

Ben raked his thick fingers though his luscious hair as he stepped closer to Armitage, still enthralled in the browning pages, “The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis.”

“See?” Armitage shut the book single handedly, a tiny puff of dust clouded into the air, “told you.” The mobster’s lips contorted into a smile, if a bit smug but Ben continued on.

“I wrote a huge paper on Dante for my degree,” Ben reached for the book from the red-haired mobster, their fingers slightly brushing, “that particular quote sort of stuck with me. I feel most of what Dante wrote can still be applied to us today.”

“Oh, Absolutely.”

 

 

Just then the tiny bell signaling to the bookshop that another customer had walked in gave out a small twinkle of a sound, “Excuse me, Armitage.”

Armitage gave a small nod and walked further down the aisle, delving deeper into the bookshop, breathing in the scent of them all. Back in the front of the shop, Ben greeted his newest customer, “How can I help you Ma’am?” There was a short but lingering silence. Ben’s customer service smile began to fade slightly. The woman who had just entered was not alone.

Alongside her was a large, burly man with no hair, with dark sunglasses sitting on his fat nose. The woman herself was very tall, slender, and deadly beautiful. Her hair was so blonde it was borderline silver. Her all white attire suggested she had copious amounts of money and meant business. In her hand she held a small, blood red clutch purse with gold accessories trimming the mouth of the purse. Her smile was cold and calculated as she removed her own pearly white sunglasses. Her teeth were blindingly immaculate; Ben could’ve sworn her incisors were sharpened.

“Is this your new boy, Armi?”


	5. The Attack

“Ex-excuse me?”

Ben, doe-eyed and dumbfounded allowed his jaw to drop. The striking woman before him took a pose of affirmation. Her very aura exuded power and control as she tapped a stiletto foot against the slightly chip hard-wood floor. Expecting an answer, a white gloved hand delicately was brought to her platinum locks, stroking through the tresses like a lioness grooming her mane, “how very rude, Armi. A lady is asking you a question.”

Feeling completely ignored and red in the face, Ben took a step forward, “What did you mean by--?” In a flash, Phasma’s goon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a solid black Smith & Wesson, finger lightly on the trigger ready to pull at a moment's notice. Aiming at Ben, the jarred author took three steps back; his hands brought up to chest as a pathetic gesture of submission. “Hey, hey buddy I’m just a bookseller.”

“Gwendoline!” From the depths of the old bookshop, between the historical literature and children’s nursery rhymes, emerged a flaming haired man with an expression of pure rage contorting his face. An equally threatening weapon, Armitage’s trusty and squeaky clean glock, was securely fastened in the young mob boss’s grip, “call off your dog, now.”

With a sharp smile, Phasma did not call off her goon, but rather taunted Armitage with the safety of an innocent bystander’s life by stepping closer to Ben, “Tsk tsk, Armitage. Your humanity is showing. You’ve always been weak,” reaching her hand out in attempt to touch Ben’s jaw, “capable of great compassion…” her eyes narrowing in on her prey like jungle cat. Ben’s voice was trapped in his throat. Armitage could’ve sworn he heard Ben gulp in fear. Ben took another step away, but Phasma was unrelenting. “In our world, such a thing is a luxury, we simply can’t afford. I have seen your dark side Armitage. I know what you can do. We have both seen the horrors of the underworld and such a pretty thing such as him can go for thousands, perhaps more if you find the right buyer. Oooh, I have forgotten. You don’t get your hands dirty in that type of business, do you? Still selling guns on the corner then?”

“Stop it Gwendoline. He is no one to me.”

“Then it won’t bother you if we took him then.” In a rapid succession of footfalls that would rival a cheetah’s dash, Armitage put himself between Phasma and a shaking Ben. It was a risk, but now there was a barrier that this horrid woman cannot pass without a fight. Phasma as well as her goon looked to be astounded, if not by Armitage’s speed but his tenacity in keeping this bookseller safe. His gun’s aim remained true on the blonde woman, her sneering muscle behind her kept his own pistol aimed at the duo. Armitage could hear Ben’s breath. He was panting. He knew Ben was afraid. This man who he has only known for a few short minutes—was relying on him to stay alive. He could only imagine what the individual behind him must be thinking…

_What the Hell is happening?_

_Who the Hell are these people?_

_Why are they doing this?_

**Am I going to die today?**

 

Armitage Hux was no stranger to life or death situations. From early childhood, Brendol made sure to fine tune his only son to have a tolerance for suffering and pain and fear. Everything with Brendol was no holds barred, that included in the upbringing of Armitage. While Ben—Ben spoke of his Uncle with such love and respect. There was no way that Ben was subjected to any type of cruelty that came even close to his own. Ben still had life in his eyes. His future remained unwritten while Armitage’s was etched in marble; the length of it was unknown—but he would be a crime lord, like his Father and his Father before him. Ben was afraid. And Ben knew that these people knew he was afraid. He must look pathetic to them. These two titans, one of red and one of platinum stood before him in a standoff, with neither of them backing down; remaining stoic and proud. The lummox behind the platinum woman was the gatekeeper to their world, bred to protect his Empress from any adversary. They came from a world obviously he could never understand. From what he gathered, it was a cosmos of blood, darkness and intimidation. He was a new born doe with a front row look into the wolves’ den. And the wolves were barring their teeth.

“Leave.” The silence was broken. But it was not Armitage who spoke. “ _Please_.”

From behind the red-haired crime boss, a tear eyed Ben Solo gritted his teeth. Armitage felt a hand on his shoulder. Ben was using him as a crutch. It was understandable that Ben was possibly losing his balance. His body was in shock. His fight or flight mechanism must be going haywire and allowing himself to lean on a man he has known for a short time, was his only means of keeping himself grounded. “I don’t—I don’t understand what is going on or who you are, but please, go. I don’t want anyone to get hurt today. And that includes you Ma’am.”

“Your boy has quite a mouth, Hux.”

“You heard him, Phasma.”

“And why would I leave?”

“Perhaps you have forgotten but I have a glock six inches away from your heart. Or maybe instead of a heart, there is nothing.”

Phasma let out an offended scoff, “….and you, Armitage Hux, son of the Bloody Brendol Hux, have a heart? While our families do feud, I know you. You’re not exactly a saint. No one from our background is.”

With a snap of her fingers her goon slowly backed away towards the door. Never once turning her back, Phasma stepped away from the two men, “I’d keep an eye open while you sleep, Hux. Besides, I have gotten all I need.” Pocketing his pistol, the muscle Gwendoline brought with her opened the door. The little bell above them rang out. In a blink they were gone and Ben jettisoned from behind Armitage to lock the deadbolt and swing the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Letting out the air he was holding in, Ben slid down to the floor, his back propped against the door, head in his hands.

Also pocketing his glock, Armitage straightened a few loose hairs that escaped his gelled hair; he made his way to the shaken man on the floor.

“So, is this a typical Tuesday for you or what?”

“Heh, I would be lying if I said I have never been in standoff before. First time in a bookstore although.”

Ben shook his head in disbelief, “who are you? Who were they? And she called me your boy.” Readjusting his trousers to allow him to sit more easily next to Ben, Armitage took a seat on the floor.

The floor boards gave out a small creak as he settled in next to the young Solo, “You already know my name, Armitage Hux. And to put it plainly…I am from a family that procured their wealth through more illegal means than the average person.”

“Of course, the first cute guy that comes in here today is from the mafia.”

“Does organized crime family sound better? _Less_ threatening. Oh, and thank you by the way. You’re rather charming yourself.”

Feeling his face grow hot again, Ben turned himself away from Armitage, “and those assholes from a few minutes before…?”

“Gwendoline Phasma,” grunting, Armitage brought his knees up to place his wrist on top of them for comfort, his watch jingled on his bony wrist, “she is also from a mob family. We have known one another for a long time. Our fathers feuded and that passed down to their children. Our paths cross from time to time, especially when it comes to territory disputes. This particular area was once my father’s prowling grounds when he was young, but its mostly neutral now, eh…until something like this happens.”

“Ah.” Ben’s head was spinning. This situation was reminiscent of something that could happen in one of his own stories. The unknowing protagonist being dragged into a harrowing adventure by an unlikely ally. The villain makes a surprising appearance, making threats, striking fear into the hearts of all those who come near them. It was all too surreal and cliché.

“I was trying to avoid a confrontation by ducking my way into this store. I thought her idiot muscle hadn’t seen me. I saw Phasma step into her car. I assumed she was taking her leave,” leaning away slightly from Ben, Armitage reached into his back pocket and pulled out a grey and brown cigarette box. Tapping one of the ends to his palm methodically, he continues. “She has gotten a bit too cocksure ever since her predecessor died not too long ago. Her Father wasn’t as confrontational. I honesty do not know what she gained from this interaction other than tossing a few insults my way. It was presumptuous of her to assume you where mine. That’s why she threatened you.”

“Jeez, and here I was debating on asking you out for a cup of coffee. You know, before this,” Ben made an exaggerated gesture with his arms above his head. "I don’t have many acquaintances in this city and thought to myself ‘hey Ben, why not ask the attractive man with red hair out? What could possibly go wrong?’”

Armitage raised a brow, a cigarette slowly bringing brought to his lips, “you’re very blunt.”

“I had a gun aimed at my head and almost died today, I can say whatever I damn well please. And please don’t smoke in here, it will ruin the books.”

Armitage allowed the cigarette to hang from his lips unlit. “So… you think I’m attractive.”

“You might be some mafioso, but that doesn’t make you any less cute,” he rubbed his temples in small deep circles in a sad attempt to ease the headache that was making itself known, “so now what? You’ve told me what you are. What’s stopping you from killing me or blackmailing me to keep your life secret? I can turn you in.”

“You would be surprised how many officers are on my bankroll.”

“Y-you can’t be serious?”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ben. In fact,” Armitage stood from his seat on the floor, his back slightly creaking from being in such an uncomfortable position, “I would like to get to know you better. But, I understand if you want me to leave and never come back. I live a life that many have only seen in the movies. If you so desire it, I can walk out that door.” Offering his hand to Ben who was still sitting on the floor, his long legs splayed out in front of him, Armitage held his breath, “at least let me offer you protection. I got you and your Uncle’s business into this mess and I fear Gwendoline could possibly make another visit.”

Biting his inner cheek, Ben looked at the palms of Armitage Hux. Without his gloves, Ben could see his fingerprints; his fingers were free from calluses, most likely thanks to wearing gloves a lot of a time. His hand looked incredibly strong and yet simultaneously very soft. This hand told a story. A story of a life crueler and more mysterious than his own, it was almost enthralling. The writer in him wanted to unravel Armitage Hux, read every chapter made available to him. Deconstruct his character and understand his intentions with him. Ben was intrigued, but also wary. Reaching out for Armitage’s awaiting grasp, Ben hoisted himself from the floor to gaze into Armitage’s eyes, “you saved my life. Let’s get something to eat together, I owe you that much. But not just because you protected me—I want too under my _own_ accord. I have to admit that…you sort of….”

“…sort of…?”

“Scare me.”

“You would be a fool if you weren’t afraid to some degree. You have gone through a lot today and it’s only 1:15.”

“But you also excite me. You are the most unique person I have ever met. Plus, surviving a near death experience can really bring two people together.”

“Perfect then. Let me treat you to the best chef to ever grace the culinary world. He’s worked for my family ever since I was very small. I’ll escort you to my car, and don’t worry I will keep an eye out for Phasma and her crony.”

“Same.”

“Shall we go then?”


	6. Beginning of Predilections

Making their way safely to Armitage’s lavish _Lamborghini Veneno_ in the underground parking structure that was securely guarded by a team of sentinels at every exit-way. Once seated inside and buckled up, Ben embarrassingly _Googled_ the make of Armitage’s vehicle and nearly lost all his breath upon discovering the retail price it went for. Being one of the most expensive cars ever to be built, Ben kept his hands to himself in fear of smudging or breaking anything. Which was more difficult to do in practice rather than theory considering all the gadgets and doo-dads found in such a bougie that come standard were all too tempting to Ben.

“Would you like me to turn on some music?”

Ben could tell that he must look uncomfortable in such a luxury vehicle and Armitage only wanted him to relax, “um, sure. You can put on anything. It’s your car anyway.”

“Go ahead and tap the screen once. It will start up for you.” Armitage never once took his eyes off the road. Ben was all too giddy to play with such a pricey toy. With a single tap on the dark screen, a puddle of neon blue light rippled from his fingertip. A calming tone normally associated from modern electronics filled Ben’s ears and then he was greeted with Armitage’s playlists.

Ben took notice of the playlist filled to the brim with Tchaikovsky, Chopin and Brahms. Not exactly surprising. Armitage have an air about him that one would associate with being a fan of classical composers.

After come time scrolling the infinite genres, Ben finally settled on tapping on the _shuffle_ button and allowed the music library to decide its own fate.

Soon enough, the sound of a guitar string being plucked by a careful hand began to play with the tempo of a drum joining soon after. Ben recognized the song was an older one, but as to which song it was, he was unsure. He must have heard it once before, but it alluded him as to when and where. Looking to Armitage for approval, he saw that the ginger toned man was lightly tapping his fingers to the beat of the song on the leather of the steering wheel. Ben could’ve sworn that he saw Armitage smile to himself as he drove. Feeling a little red in the face after catching himself staring at Armitage and quickly turned his gaze out the window; buildings and trees blurred past him. The singer’s soothing voice was calming as he eased himself into his seat.  Good thing Armitage offered him a free lunch. He was starving and his nerves from early were finally beginning to die down in his belly. Not sure as to how long the drive would be, Ben closed his eyes and allowed to mellow beat from the car stereos lull him into a light afternoon nap.

 

 

_[What a criminal world_  
_The boys are like baby-faced girls_  
_What a criminal girl_  
_She'll show you where to shoot your gun_  
_What a typical mother's son_  
_The only thing that she enjoys_  
_Is a criminal world_  
_Where the girls are like baby-faced boys]_

_[You've got a very heavy reputation_  
_But no-one knows about your low-life_  
_I know a way to find a situation_  
_And hold a candle to your high-life disguise]_

 

About twenty-five minutes later, Armitage shook his new companion awake with a stern shake, “Ben, wake up, we’re here.”

With a soft snort, Ben awoke bleary eyed and ravenously hungry, “heh, sorry.”

“Not at all, although I am a bit surprised that you fell asleep. I’m honored that you feel comfortable enough around me to fall asleep so easily.”

Stepping out of the car, and carefully closing the door, Ben fixed his mussed hair and collar, “to be fair I haven’t been sleeping all that great PLUS all the adrenaline from earlier seeped out of my body leaving me tired. But I am also _reeeeaaally_ hungry.”

“I know what you mean, but I guess I am used to all the adrenaline rushes that come from my type of work. I am also glad you are hungry, it’s almost 2:00. I usually have lunch around this time. Chef should have everything ready.” Stealing a quick glance at his Rolex, Armitage determined that they made it just in time to have a fresh lunch together. Father normally takes his meals in his study so he shouldn’t be a bother to them.

“Your garage is HUGE!”

“It’s not that impressive. It’s just a room to hold my cars.”

“Exactly! CARS as in multiple. Most people in my situation only have one or none at all. I take the bus everywhere to be honest, or maybe a bike.”

A quirk of a smile made its way to Armitage’s face, “and this is only my collection. My Father has is own on the other side of the property. Well, lets make our way inside then.”

Ben was left flabbergasted as he drank in the beautifully crafted vehicles in front of him before following Armitage up the five steps that led into the house.

Once making their way down a long hallway that opened into the foyer, Ben circled around Armitage to look at absolutely everything. The rug they stood on looked very expensive. It was red with golden accents threaded into every fiber. The staircases spiraled upward into what Ben can only assume where the bedrooms are located. Marble graced the floor; pure white with a stain of stoic gray swirls. There were many paintings and photos, some recent and some very old on the immaculately painted walls, and glass cases containing china and crystal pieces lined the right side of the foyer.

“…holy…crap….”

“Do you like it? Sometimes I think it's gaudy or a little ‘showoff-ish’, but they are mostly my Father’s things from his travels.”

“I’m a little disappointed. Where is the crystal chandelier that glimmers in the light?”

“I know you are joking, but just wait until we get into the dining room. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Jeeeeeze.”

 

Armitage made a gesture to follow him into the next room, which was an entertainment area or living room. The walls were lined with bookcases with many books, crystal ornaments inter-spaced between a stack of books for decoration. Couches are set up to form a welcoming conference area. Ben’s imagination ran wild, painting scenarios of mafiosos gathering together to discuss business and drink fancy scotch in front of the fireplace.

“You’re curious.”

Ben shook himself back into reality, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I am and what sort of work environment I come from. You must be having some thoughts about all this.”

Ben bit his lip and turned to look at Armitage who had now taken off his coat and draped it on a coat rack near the bookcase, “I don’t want to be rude.”

“Come on, ask me anything.”

“ _\--_ Do mob bosses ever come over and discuss dastardly plans over expensive scotch and caviar while a fireplace is crackling in the background?!”

“No, of course not…. I prefer brandy over scotch while discussing business. And I wouldn’t call them dastardly, depending on the job.”

“Wow.”

“I’m glad you’re finding this amusing. Most would be terrified.”

“Of course, it does scare me a bit, but I trust you. I know we have been friends for maybe two hours at the most but…I feel like I can trust you. I believe that you are a good person. Not many people would put themselves between another and a bullet. And I do not understand this world. What I know is from what I have seen in movies and shows. So, I’m not going to judge you from that and stuff…. I’m sorry it’s hard for me to explain myself when it’s not written down.” Ben rubbed his arm as a nervous tick. Armitage looked at him softly, but his gaze was piercing. Ben almost found it too hard to look him in the eyes for too long, “I’m rambling again.”

Stepping closer to Ben, Armitage took a clammy and nervous hand into his own, “I like it when you ramble. I can’t explain myself either as to why I do. But I _do_.”

“Armitage,” the young mob boss could see Ben’s face growing hot once more, similarly as it was when they first met in the bookstore before Phasma had to show up and ruin their conversation. Ben wanted to step closer to this dangerous man, see what makes him tick...

 

**_“Armitage!”_ **

****

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Ben shook his hand out of Armitage’s. Twisting his body around to face the man who was the source of the sound, Ben saw a much older man who looked suspiciously like Armitage himself.

The old man was tall and lanky like Armitage, but his hair snowy white with sparse red threads sprouting in random areas rather than a blazing fire like his new companion. His wrinkles were deep and creased his face in a scowl that was most unwelcoming. He wore all gray and black, his tie being the only piece to have a stripped design which was tucked into his pants and belt. His suit looked to be neatly pressed and black dress shoes shined even under the dimmest of circumstances. He held a red oak cane with a lion’s head as the grip.

“Father.”

“What is this? And who is _that_?” The old man who was now identified as Armitage’s Father looked with steely eyes at Ben and gestured with his cane in Ben’s direction, demanding who the hell he was and why he was in the Hux household, “ ** _Armitage_**?”

“Who I wish to spend my time with is up to me,” Armitage’s soft features grew harsh in the presence of his Father. Ben became anxious. He felt like a disgusting bug who had crawled his way into a beautiful garden he was unworthy of stepping one creepy crawly leg in to. The old Hux gave a grunt and hit the ground forcefully with his red cane.

“Who are you, you beggar?!”

“How dare you--?”

“My name is Ben Solo, Sir. I was invited here as a guest by your son, Armitage for lunch if you must know; and considering that Armitage has been nothing but a gracious host, I am taken back by how rude you are. He must have learned his manners from his Mother.”

Armitage sputtered.

Unlike his interaction with Phasma, Ben stood tall and almost intimidating. His charcoal hair circled his face like a dark veil, his face with stony and brows furrowed and his back was straight; his fists were clenched at his sides.

Armitage couldn’t help but smile just a little bit.

“You would bring such trash into my home, Armitage?”

“This is my home as well, _Brendol,_ and like I said once before—who I wish to be around is ultimately my decision. I choose to be with Ben. We can leave if you insist on acting like a brute.”

“Tch! **DOPHELD**!”

 

As quick as a flash, light footfalls could be heard from behind the swing door that led into the dining room, and bursting from it was a rosy cheeked Dopheld. Perspiration clung to his brow, “yes, Sir?” Dopheld reached into his pocket and pulled out an embroidered handkerchief to wipe his face, “you called for me?”

“Send my lunch to my study this instant.”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“We will speak about this later, Armitage.”

“I believe we will not.”

With one last glare at Ben’s directions, Brendol Hux hobbled out of the room and down the hallway leading to his personal study.

“Ben, are you alright?”

“Yeah. I guess. I’m Mister Popular today apparently. Heh, he called me trash. I’ve heard worse.”

“Ben…”

Ben was silent and looked at his shoes, “I’m fine, Armitage. Thank you.”

“Sir?”

“Oh, um sorry, Dopheld. Ben, this is Dopheld Mitaka. He keeps the house running like clockwork. Dopheld, this is Ben Solo. We met in town today and I offered to treat him to lunch today.”

“I hope I am not causing any problems. Well… other than Armitage’s father hating me…”

“Not at all! I’m happy to meet you. Armitage, Sir, it is so unlike you to bring someone home.” Dopheld gave a polite and teasing smile at Armitage whose eyebrow was twitching. “Mr. Solo, how did you and Armitage meet?”

“I actually help my Uncle run an old bookshop in the city. Armitage came in and I threatened violence against him, but then he saved my life. We sort of hit it off after that. Oh, and please call me, Ben. Mr. Solo feels strange.”

“Okay, _interesting_. I’ll get all the details later. I always do. Would you like to come into the dining room?”

“Actually,” Armitage looked to Ben, a sophisticated smile on his face. Noticing an eyelash on Ben’s face, Armitage flippantly picked it off Ben’s cheek as if he has done this thousands of times before, “I know you said you wanted to see the crystal chandelier, but how about we have our lunch in the garden? There are gazebos and a fountain where we can dine. Might as well enjoy it know before winter kills it all.”

Armitage gave a light puff of breath to send the eyelash fluttering about into the air.

“That actually sounds really nice.”

“Dopheld?”

“Right away, Sir!”

“Before we go out, Dopheld, can you show me where the bathroom is?” Ben asked politely.

“Follow me, Ben. By the way, Armitage, you may want to visit your bathroom as well. You look a little flush in the face.”

“D-dopheld?”

“This way, Ben!” Dopheld took hold of Ben’s thick arm entwined with his own and led him to the guest bathroom. Armitage, taking his old friend’s advice, made his way to his own room to wash his face. Looking into the mirror, he agreed with Dopheld, his face was hot and red. But why?

**_[Armitage flippantly picked it off Ben’s cheek as if he has done this thousands of times before…]_ **

The mob boss’s face went ablaze again.

_‘Why did I do that?! In front of DOPHELD. I will never hear the end of it. But Ben, he didn’t say anything or turn away from me.’_

Turning on the faucet to its coldest setting, Armitage dunked his hands into the sink and vigorously washed his face, combed his hair, before making his way back down to greet Ben.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Ben was led into the guest bathroom by Dopheld Mitaka. Ben could tell that Dopheld had a very gracious and loving personality. He also seemed very relaxed with Armitage, only keeping up the professional boss-employee dynamic whenever others were around, like Brendol.

Stopping at the end of a very long hallway, many yards away from Armitage and Brendol, Mitaka turned to Ben, “Do you like Armitage?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Armitage never brings anyone home. If ever he pursued someone, he kept them away from this house. He must like you.”

“Well, we have only known each other for a couple of hours—”

“What exactly happened in the city? Armitage is one of my best friends and his eyebrow was twitching. Something is up.”

Dopheld Mitaka had deep dark brown eyes that had a softness of actual concern for his friend. It was obvious that Armitage and Dopheld shared a history. Ben bit his lip and tried to veer away from Dopheld’s gaze. His eyes almost seemed to sparkle.

“Weeeeeeeelll...” Ben began.

“Yeeeeees?”

“I wasn’t joking when I said Armitage saved my life. Some psycho lady with blonde hair had a gun up to my face and Armitage intervened.”

“Ugh, Gwendoline.”

“Yep.”

“She gets in the way of everything. And to think she would feel threatened by you.”

“Wait. What?”

“Both the Hux and the Phasma families know that Gwendoline has had an infatuation with Armitage since they were pre-teens. Armitage on the other hand thinks she just wants to kill him, which she probably does, but she still has some sick crush on poor Armitage.”

“This is weird.”

“So, then you now about us. About the Hux’s family business?”

“Sort of. Maybe. Armitage told me about being in a mob family, Gwendoline’s father’s death, I also witnessed a gun showdown. Gwendoline also said some horrid things to him. Which fill the blanks a little bit...”

“And none of this bothers you?” 

Looking back into Dopheld’s cocoa-colored eyes. They were sparkling again. Begging for answers and Ben couldn’t find it in him to lie, “and I can’t exactly say that it doesn’t…”

“I see.”

“…but I sense he has a good heart. And genuinely wanted to protect me from Gwendoline and then his Father. Dopheld, do you think Armitage likes _me_?”

“I have known him since I was very small. I remember him being very quiet and almost scary, but he always set time aside to play with me. He has tended to my scrapes and wiped my tears and read me stories. Brendol saw Armitage’s softness and tried to beat it out of him, but all he did was solidify Armitage’s tenderness. I have always had a great respect for Armitage Hux.” Dopheld wanted cry, if not from the sadness of Armitage’s past or because finally, maybe, Armitage has found a companion out of the mafia life.

“Today has been a very long day. I’m almost overwhelmed.”

“Ben, take care of him for me?”

“What do you mean?”

“The restroom is this way, Ben. There are fresh towels and a comb if you would like to brush out that hair of yours. Oh, and some other toiletries if you need them. Just head back the same way we did and out the white patio doors near the kitchens. You will find the path to the garden you two will be eating in.”

“W-wait, Dopheld?”

Dopheld was gone.

Ben was left in the bathroom; his head spinning from the events of today but also Dopheld Mitaka’s confessions.

Still very hungry but also weary, Ben began to face his hands and face with cold water to wake him up; he could definitely go for another nap soon.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Dopheld made his way into the kitchens to inform the chef that Armitage and his guest were to take their lunch in the gardens today. Two butlers came and arranged each silver platter with the correct number of dishes and utensils, with a cloth napkin folded neatly next to each plate. They briskly walked out to the garden, into the crisp clean air, to set up the gazebo for the lunch.

To Dopheld’s left was a very large liquor collection filled with brandy, whiskey, champagne and an assortment of wines. Finally selecting a proper sweet late-harvest-style Sauvignon Blanc for Armitage and Ben’s meal, Dopheld grabbed two clean glasses and placed them onto a separate silver tray.

Uncorking the bottle, Dopheld took great care into making sure his tears did not salt the wine being poured into each glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes

Song:Criminal World by David Bowie


	7. Peach Sherbet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You definitely got my attention, does this epic tale have a name?”

There was a crisp bite in the air today.

Fall was gracefully setting in, but the Hux family garden bared down its roots, refusing to let nature take it toll against the flora. Multiple graveled paths twist and turned all through out the garden, leading who over followed its pebbled trail to the center which housed the recently painted gazebo where Armitage and Ben currently ate their lunch.

Bestowed before them was a feast of grilled fowl, basted in a lemon and cranberry sauce. A light crunchy salad drizzled in a zesty vinaigrette and parmesan cheese and an assortment of veggies. Towards the center was a basket of freshly baked bread rolls with an egg-wash, sprinkled with pinch of garlic. And to cleanse the palate, a peach sherbet surrounded by ice to keep chilled until ready for consumption.

Ben took another sip of the fruity wine before reaching for a bread-roll, “everything tastes amazing, Armitage.”

“Chef really does know the way to me stomach. I’m most excited for the sherbet.”

“You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you. Too be fair, my Grandfather was quite the imaginative architect. He built this place for my father before he passed. Mafia life did not treat him kindly, but it was the cigars that finally did him in. I hardly knew him. I was a small child when he died. I remember him smelling of tobacco and peaches,” Armitage took a small spoon to dip a dollop of the sherbet onto his tongue, “I remember he loved peaches.”

“I never met my grandparents, on either side. My parents were orphans.”

“Both of them?”

“My Dad’s family is more mysterious than my Mom. I guess he was abandoned at some orphanage as a kid and caused a lot of trouble as a teenager—in and out of juvie until he was 18. My Mom’s parents were…killed. I don’t know all the details. It’s all very mysterious but my parents were never really up to talking about their pasts. But in finding each other, I think they also found peace. One of the weirdest parts is that my Mom and Uncle Luke didn’t even know one another existed until they were teenagers.”

“Fascinating.”

Another bite of salad was shoved into Ben’s mouth, “What about your family?”

“Other than the mafia part?” Armitage teased.

“Your parents. We already met Brendol. Where’s your Mom?”

“In an urn on a mantel in Father’s room.”

“I—I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 

Armitage shook a hand in front of him, signaling to Ben that he had done no harm, “I was a preteen when she died. She was very sick. I watched her wither away in her bed as the sickness rendered her skeletal. As much as I didn’t want her to go, she was in pain and I needed it to end. She was very kind. Too kind for this world she married into. The marriage was arranged. Apparently, her Father had lots of money and marrying his daughter off to a crime lord’s son was…beneficial for his career.” Armitage looked up from his plate to find Ben looking forlorn and distant, “I should apologize. This isn’t the fun banter I wanted to have with you.”

Ben opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly shut his lips when Armitage cleared his throat.

“I also wanted to apologize again for my Father’s behavior. He insulted you after I had invited you here. He was never a touchy-feely type, but ever since Mother passed, he only grew colder. Only letting in trusted associates and business partners into our home. We’ve been in isolation from any kind of new friendships for a very long time.”

“I can’t imagine losing my Mom. We are so close.  I’m sorry about your Mother. My Mom—She knows pretty much everything about me and she’s supported my writing my entire life. I don’t even want to imagine the pain you felt.”

Ben reached out tentatively, pushing aside the basket of bread that separated the two men from each other, taking Armitage’s hand in his own, offering his warmth and comfort. Armitage squeezed back, a small smile appearing on his pale face. A simple hand holding offered an infinite amount of condolences than his father ever gave him.

 

 With a final squeeze, now from Ben, the two smitten men reluctantly let go, albeit a bit awkward.

Armitage couched again, clearing his throat.

“Hm, you did mention earlier that putting your feelings on paper was more natural to you. So, you are writer?”

Ben’s facial expression perked up almost instantly. Armitage, going against his polite upbringing, and placed his elbows on the table. Interlacing his fingers together, Armitage urged Ben to continue.

“I’ve been writing my whole life. I have a giant collection of spiral notebooks that contain all the short stories I wrote in childhood. I went to college for creative writing as well as classical literature. My dream is to get published and join the ranks of Tolkien and Bradbury.”

“And how is that going?” Armitage questioned in a genuine tone.

“Ehh—not great. I mean, I have had some of my short stories printed in a collections book with other amateur authors but nothing too huge. To be honest, that balled up piece of paper I almost hit you in the face with, was another rejection letter I got today.”

“Your writing couldn’t be _that_ horrendous.”

“Why thank you Armitage, your words of encouragement shall remain a pillar of strength in my time of need.”

“Anytime, Ben. But seriously, keep at it. That publisher has no idea what they just turned down.”

Ben’s face bloomed with a red that could rival Dopheld’s own rosy cheeks at Armitage’s compliment, “well I am pretty proud of it. It’s sorta based off my family’s history, but in a more sci-fi setting.”

“Do tell.”

Armitage sat back in his chair, ignoring the rest of his chicken plate to consume the cleansing peach sherbet.

“It’s the epitome of the _Hero’s Journey,_ a teenager being called action, a war between an empire whose goal is to control everything and everyone; a rebel faction set in freeing them. A tough lipped princess taking her fate into her own hands. Sword battles between light and dark, corrupted politicians, zany character from all across the galaxy, a family once shattered by a horrid past to finally come together in peace, love and forgiveness; finding solitude after so much pain.”

“You definitely got my attention, does this epic tale have a name?”

“Star Wars.”

 


	8. What Father Doesn't Know But Uncle Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you want to kiss me, Armitage?”

Weeks after their first meal together at the Hux mansion, Ben and Armitage would meet in the city to avoid Brendol as much as they could. Armitage could feel the tension in the air while at home whenever his father was around. Brendol gave him side glares whenever he would leave the grounds with an extra pep in his step, but of course, the younger man ignored his father’s disapproving stares.

Armitage would treat Ben to expensive meals at exclusive restaurants completely out of Ben’s range; Ben swore to Armitage that he saw a movie star during one of their dinner dates.

Ben would stroll through his typical haunting grounds with Armitage at his side. Slow walks through the city park and old record stores, discussing his writings; Armitage voicing his opinions, even though they were mostly positive.

Armitage would let Ben speak for hours at a time, reveling in the velvet that was Ben’s voice.

 

After four dates, Ben vocalized something that has been on his mind for quite some time, “Do you want to kiss me, Armitage?”

Almost taken a-back, Armitage turned to the coal-haired man next to him on the couch in the apartment Ben rented cheaply from his Uncle. The apartment was a very small loft that perched itself on top of the bookstore. An old, long staircase led up to a locked door with an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign hanging from the knob. Behind the door was a very short hallway, leading to three short steps with another locked entrance on the third step. This door was the last stronghold of Ben’s apartment.

“Armitage? Are you okay?” Ben grew concerned but also a smidgen amused at Armitage’s current state. The mob boss’s face nearly matched his fiery hair, and his eye were blown open. It was actually pretty cute in Ben’s opinion.

“B-Ben. Yes, I’m alright. I’m fine. And yes, by God, yes.”

Ben snorted a laugh through his nose in a sad attempt to hide his glee. Armitage took his chin into his hands, free from his gloves, Ben can feel Armitage’s thumbs gently stroke his jawline. Tilting his head so slightly to contour to Armitage’s shift, Ben’s black curls tussled around his eyes and down his neck. Armitage inched nearer, his own tongue feeling dry out of nervousness.

When their lips met, Ben smiled into the kiss. Armitage can feel the slant of Ben’s mouth against his own, causing his heart to flutter and stomach somersault. Their mouths came together thrice more before unlocking their lips from each other. Ben brought Armitage deeper into his embrace as he puled his legs up onto the couch, his back against a cushion. Armitage took the hint and allowed his body to cover Ben’s. The couch was long just enough for both of the men to lay together without becoming too uncomfortable. Once settled in, Armitage kissed Ben again full on the mouth. His arms were bent to fit under Ben’s back, fully morphing himself into Ben’s arms so his entire weight wouldn’t crush against the author’s chest.

A soft smacking sound came from the now moistened lips of the two men on the old couch. Whether it was several minutes or a millennia, Ben and Armitage found solace in each other as the sounds of muffled street clamor roared below them.

Ben stroked his fingers up Armitage’s spine to his neck to lose his digits in the soft red hair. Even through a thick sweater and tee-shirt, Armitage felt every trace of Ben’s fingers. Chills ran up his back and shivered his neck, the baby hairs standing on end as he continued to kiss the beautiful man under him. Armitage sunk deeper onto Ben and in turn Ben brought both his large hands to cradle the base of Armitage’s skull, continuing the threading of Armitage’s hair around his fingers.

Feeling incredibly warm, Armitage broke their kisses to urge Ben to help him take off the now itchy sweater. Ben pulled the back of the sweater towards himself until it was completely off the red-haired mafioso. Tossing it onto the ground Ben pulled on the collar of Armitage’s shirt to beckon him closer again. Ben attacked his lips with a ferocity of a starving man seeking a feast deep within Armitage’s mouth.

 

“BEN?!! WHERE ARE YOU, KID?!”

The door to Ben’s apartment flew open.

 

With a wet smack from the dislodging of lips, Ben shot up quick as lightning,“UNCLE LUKE!”

Armitage gave a grunt of shock and pain as he was thrown to the floor on to his back, the wind being knocked out of him, “ughhhh…”

“Armitage, are you okay?!”

“Fine, darling, fine.”

 

Ben scrambled to Armitage. Lifting the poor mob boss from off the ground, Luke gave an amused chuckle.

“Who is your friend, Ben?”

“Uncle Luke, this is Armitage. Armitage, my Uncle Luke.”

“Ah, the infamous Uncle Luke,” straightening his clothes and pathetically finger combing his disheveled hair into a more presentable state, “I am honored to finally meet you. Ben talks about you constantly.”

Armitage caught the small, impish smile that graced Uncle Luke’s face. Luke stepped closer to Armitage, but not before picking up the sweater that Ben had lazily thrown to the floor not but five minutes ago, “Likewise, Ben has mentioned you but not extensively. Ben! Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend? We could’ve had him over for dinner. I am an amazing cook.”

“Uncle _Luke_!”

Luke bit his lip from smiling once again upon seeing his poor nephew’s red face.

“I am only teasing you, Ben. But I did come up here to look for you. Your Mom has been calling you like crazy and you weren’t picking up.” Luke casually handed Armitage his sweater, taking notice that the sweater was made of a material he knew his nephew could not afford, thus assuming it is Armitage’s. “She gets worried, kid.”

“Wait, but I haven’t heard my phone all—” Pulling is cellphone from his back pocket, it did indeed have multiple missed call notifications on the smooth screen, “yikes. But Uncle, you didn’t have to drive all the way over here to tell me I would’ve eventually noticed.”

“True, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to meet this nice young man here,” clapping a hand against Armitage’s back in a friendly gesture, Luke smiled once more at a blushing Ben, “when my sister called me looking for Ben I made a good guess as to why your phone was on silent. I wanted to put a face to a name and rolled the die. And honestly, I am impressed, Ben. He’s very handsome.”

“Uncle. Luke. I—”

“Not only that but you make my nephew happy. Oh, you should see the way he talks about you. Of course, he never used the word boyfriend per se, but I got the hints.”

“Really now?” Armitage gave his full attention to Luke, egging on the old man to cough up more information about Ben.

“Yep, saying how nice you are and how you go on walks and talk about your families, his writings, but also how you have this mysterious air about you~”

“OKAY THEN, well Uncle, thank you very much for coming over and telling me about Mm. I promise I will give her a call right away. Aren’t you supposed to meet up with Mr. Darklighter around this time for bridge or something?”

Giving an exaggerated shrug Luke turned to face the door but not before twirling back around to give Armitage a firm handshake, “keep this kid out of trouble for me, Armitage.” The man was the definition of sunshine as he made his way out the door and down the stairs. Ben let out an embarrassed puff of air from deep in his stomach, “OH AND BEN!” Luke’s voice reverberated from down the stairs, “YOU MIGHT WANNA LOCK THE DOOR NEXT TIME!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love sunshine Uncle Luke so much. ^^


	9. The Vindictive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I am offering you my legacy, Armitage. If only you would take it.”

 

Quickly December had set in and the chilling snow crunched under the boots of all who dared to trudge through it. The air smelled fresh and frozen and clean.

  
White filigree of snow painted across each window of the Hux mansion. The snow fell hard and constant, but nothing would keep Armitage from his dinner date with Ben. In his room, Armitage was selecting to the correct winter coat to complete his date outfit. All sleek in black and red suit, now swathed in a thick black coat with fur lining to keep in his body’s natural heat, Armitage took one last look in the mirror before heading out. Grabbing for his keys, wallet, phone and trusty glock that were splayed across his nightstand, Armitage walked towards his door, but not before shooting a text to his now official boyfriend.

_**6:30pm** -[On my way out now, love]_  
_**6:30pm** -[I’ll be waiting for you Mr. Hux :)_]

 

Chuckling at his phone, Armitage swiftly open his door that led to the hallway, “Hello, son.”

  
Before him was his father Brendol. Pocketing his phone quickly, Armitage stood tall as his Father did the same; but all the while, Brendol had a wicked grin plastered on his ageing face.

  
“Why, wherever are you going, son?”

  
Brendol pushed his way into Armitage’s room, causing his son to backtrack inside. Brendol used his cane to shut the door behind him.

  
“ _Out_ , Father.”

  
“But why, when we can have a quality talk, Father and son.”

  
“Now? You wish to bond, now?”

  
“Why not?”

  
“Father, if you truly wish to speak with me about something, can we do this tomorrow, I am expected—”

  
“It’s that boy again, isn’t? The black haired one. That rude piece of garbage you brought into my Father’s home months ago…”

  
“Do not speak about Ben like that.”

  
Grimacing his teeth, Armitage glared steely daggers at Brendol. While the man was past his prime, the Hux patriarch still carried an aura of dominance as he stood in the center of the room with help from his lion-head cane, “you disappoint me, Armitage.”

  
“Why? Because I associate with someone not on your approval list? Because I am not the cut-throat mafioso that you tried to raise me to be?”

  
“You’re a fine mob boss my boy, but you could be better…you're cunning and smart...”

Armitage’s eyes were blown open. Not once has Brendol ever complimented him in anything. Not schoolwork, not his gunman-ship, not is interrogation practices, not the money he brought to the family.  
_Nothing._

  
While still stunned, Brendol took a shaky seat on his son’s bed, his cane keeps him upright, allowing his weight to balance on the lion’s head, “....but you can be so much better. But you are too soft. So diplomatic...”

  
“I have done everything you ever asked of me. The money I bring in—”

  
“While you do well enough to make plenty of money, you also leave yourself vulnerable. And that will destroy you.”

  
“What are you talking about?”

  
“I already told you, my son. The weight of too many pacts is about to come barreling down on you. And you made the most dangerous bond.”

  
“Father,” Armitage shook his head as we fumbled to find his phone in his deep pockets, “what have you done?!”

  
“What needs to be done. Trust me Armitage, this will toughen you up as it did me…”

  
Finally finding his phone, Armitage quickly unlocked it with his fingerprint scanner and found Ben’s last text message from several minutes before and punched the dial button.

  
_Brrrrrrrrp._  
_Brrrrrrrrp._  
_Brrrrrrrrp._

Armitage began to sweat.

_Brrrrrrrrp._  
_Brrrrrrrrp._  
_Brrrrrrrrp._

“You’ll thank me one day, son….”

_Brrrrrrrrp._  
_Brrrrrrrrp._  
_Brrrrrrrrp._

 

He couldn’t breathe properly. His throat tightened and tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“A-armitage…?”

“BEN! Where are you? Are you okay?!”

  
“Armitage! It’s Gwendoline! I _don’t—!”_

  
The line went silent.

 

“BEN?! BEN?!”

_….._

“Stop yelling Armi, I’m right here~”

 

“Gwendoline, what are you doing? Did my Father put you up to this? Why would you let him command you?!”

  
“He’s not controlling me. He made me an offer. And I took it. Our Father’s might have quarreled but I’ve always had a soft spot for you…”

  
“Wh-what?”

 

Armitage could hear a struggle in the background. The clatter of chair falling over, muffled shouts and cries. Gwendoline chuckled, “excuse me, Armi.”

Her voice faded a bit but was still intelligible as she spit venom to, who Armitage assumed was her goon, “IDIOT! Can’t you do anything?!.... I don’t care if he’s strong, be stronger!...tie him up!..... knock him out!....I’m sorry Armitage but your Father says it is for you own good. Says it will thicken your hide or ignite something within. Personally, it sounds delicious and would love to see that side of you. Either way, I am getting paid a lot of money for this. Ta-ta!”

  
The line went dead.

  
“GWENDOLINE?! PHASMA! DAMNIT!”

  
Clearing a frog his throat, Brendol spoke from the bed in an raspy voice, “It will hurt for some time, Armitage. But trust me, this is what needs to happen. That boy was just a passing fancy. You need to carry on the family name, and that is something you cannot do with him…”

  
“Damn my family name. And damn you. We are not a family; your associates are not a family. This place should just burn to the ground. All you do is hide from the world! Why are you tormenting me?”

  
“When I lost your Mother, I became the strongest I had ever been. Loss unlocks a power within you that you cannot even begin to understand unless you experience for yourself. No man was safe from my gun; even before her death, I was swift in my execution. All the debt owed to me paid in full as the barrel of my Smith & Wesson was pressed up against their temple. I used my rage to fuel my war machine, and in turn made sure this business survived the changing times.”

  
“You weren’t the only one who lost her.”

  
“And yet I am the only one who grew stronger from it...I am offering you my legacy, Armitage. If only you would take it.”

  
“That’s sick. I’m not a man like you and I will never be. If anything, my love for Ben is what drives me, and I will save him and keep him away from people like you. Now, WHERE. IS. BEN?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late updates. I was out of state for some time for family business, but I am back and uploading the rest of the story. Thank you for sticking with me for so long. I greatly appreciate it!


	10. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And where is your lover? Definitely not here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he finally came to his senses and realized you were nothing more than some puppy love fling that can easily be replaced and forgotten.”

_[Brendol Hux had a bruise blooming bruise making its slow appearance across his face as he leaned against his son’s now open door._

  
_‘You’ll find him at the fishery warehouse in the old business district. It’s abandoned and boarded up. I doubt you’ll make it in time, even if you do, you’ll only witness his execution.’_

  
_‘I should kill you where you stand.’_

  
_‘Hm, maybe I did teach you something. But I know you won’t do it.’_

  
_‘Out of my way...!'_

  
_‘…oh, and Armitage…. whether you are successful or not…. don’t come back….’]_

 

His Father’s parting words echoed through out his mind. Driving through the snow carefully as he possibly could, all the while pushing the gas pedal too near too the floor of his car—Armitage only saw red. It would take at least 20 minutes to get to the warehouse, hopefully Ben can distract them long enough for Armitage to arrive.

  
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

  
“So, what’s a pretty lady like you, doing in a place like this?”

  
Phasma rolled her eyes, “I thought I told you to shut him up.”

  
“He _bit_ me!”

  
“Aw, poor baby.”

  
“Hey, what about me? Now my mouth tastes like disgusting moron.”

  
“You are very mouthy. Last we spoke, you could hardly get out a sentence. Hiding behind Armitage like a new born deer cowers behind their mother. I wasn’t lying when I said you would fetch for a high price.”

  
Ben spit on the ground. His saliva was pink. Phasma’s crony was able to get in a few good hits before throwing him to the stained floor. His ears still rang in disorientation while he was tied to a chair, “sorry Phasma, but I’m spoken for.”

  
“But just think about it, Ben. I find a nice old rich man to do whatever he wants with you, might drug you, get you dependent on some horrid concoction, fuck your brains out. But you’ll live in the lap of luxury for the rest of your sad existence as someone’s pretty pet.”

  
“I’m going to have to pass, thanks.”

 

Phasma gave out a haughty laugh, her perfect manicure brought up to her lips as she cackled, “or maybe…just maybe…. I’ll wait until Armitage arrives. Let him think he’s saved you. Then slit your handsome throat right before his eyes. I can watch him crumble into pieces. Crying over your dead body as he cradles your corpse in a puddle of blood.”

  
Ben clucked his tongue, his heart rate escalating as the woman in all white drew nearer to him, “dark.”

  
“I’m sorry, let’s talk about something more light hearted. How about this?”

  
Phasma let out a high-pitched whistle, her goon apparently understanding all her squawks and croons, threw a brown satchel at her opened palm.

  
“I found this while perusing a much larger and much more successful book chain in the city.” Flipping though the pages of the thick book, Phasma stopped at the dead middle of it, “ **A Tadpole Among the Waves** by Ben Organa, the dedication I find rather cute— _‘to my family, we fought the waves, we found one another in this dangerous ocean and together we will remain united, all my love, your son.’”_

  
Phasma tossed the book harshly at Ben’s gut, gritting his teeth Ben used all his will power to not shout out, to not show Phasma the pain she wanted to see.

  
“Too bad you won’t be able to keep that promise to Han and Leia Solo, ooh and let’s not forget Luke Skywalker. You’re not making out of here alive.”

  
“Why do you--? How?”

  
“I can also recite their addresses and blood types if you want. I am getting a bit bored just staring at your dumbstruck face,” Phasma looked at her immaculate nails, crossing her arms in boredom.

  
“…you bitch…”

  
“How rude.”

  
“…don’t you dare go near them. Kill me. Torture me. But leave my family out of this.”

  
“Aren’t you angry, Ben? At Armitage?”

 

Ben looked up at Phasma as she once again walked closer to him. He was sweating bullets now, his muscles were sore from being tied by thick ropes, but his eyes remained unwavering.

 

“Armitage dragged you into this. All he had to do was face me like a man that day instead of hiding like a coward in your pathetic shop. If it weren’t for him, you would probably be home right now all cuddled up on the couch watching some over-rated show on television. But instead, here you are—bloody, bruised, scared shitless—mouthing off to one of the most powerful mob bosses this city maybe even world has ever seen. And where is your lover? Definitely not here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he finally came to his senses and realized you were nothing more than some puppy love fling that can easily be replaced and forgotten.”

“Stop it…”

Hot, blazing tears cut down Ben’s face, pooling at his bruised chin. The salty droplets continued on down his neck, wetting his now dirty shirt, finally evaporating into nothing.

 

“Tell me, Ben. Has he told you he loves you? How does his cock feel inside you? Was it worth all this?”

“STOP IT!”

“Touchy, touchy. I only let you live because I am allowing it. But I am growing tired of you. I think I’m done with this.”

  
“W-wait—”

  
Un-holstering her jewel encrusted pistol from her hip, Phasma aimed true in Ben’s direction. There he sat, helpless, wiggling and struggling all he could against his bonds. It was almost sad.

  
“Good-bye, Ben.”

  
“ _Good-bye, Gwendoline_.”

 

Two shots rang out.

 

Ben’s eyes were screwed shut, tears spilling out anyway to drench his face. He waited for the pain. He waited for the cold grip of death to take him by the hand. He thought of Mother and Father, his Uncle Luke, his dog Chewie….he thought of Armitage and how he could never kiss his lips once last time.

  
There was only silence.

  
Until the wails of Gwendoline Phasma ricocheted against the walls of this decrepit warehouse. The cries of her nameless goon soon joined her. Her pure white suit quickly stained with blood. Her stomach convulsed and her legs shook, unable to support her body weight any longer. She rolled in a puddle of her own blood to look back at her murderer.

  
“Ah...ah-Armitage.”

  
“Gwendoline.”

  
“S-so dear old….dad…gave away…o—our…location…? Cowards. The b-both of you…”

  
“He didn’t think I would make in time,” Armitage walked closer to the dying woman on the ground, kicking her very expensive and custom-made pistol away from her sad clutches, “he is convinced that I would witness Ben’s death. Somehow got it in his head that seeing Ben die would make me stronger. But he miscalculated. It’s Ben’s love that makes me stronger. I drove so god damn fast the bats out of Hell are green with envy.”

  
Phasma’s henchmen was already dead.  
His final gurgles bubbled in his chest.  
It was the most disturbing sounds Ben has ever heard.

_Armitage must be used to it_ he thinks.

 

“Perhaps…perhaps…i—in another…universe…we could….have…ruled….together, Armitage.”

  
“I have done some terrible things in my career of organized crime but partnering with you...? I doubt that. You are the most horrid woman I had to ever come in contact with and I weep for whatever Hell pit you find yourself in.”

  
With the blood soon filling her lungs, Phasma gave out her final chortle, “f-f-funny, that’s what my Fath—Father said to me….when…I shot…him…dead…”

 

With her last breath, Gwen’s eyes grew cold and unblinking. She was dead and her lips remained slightly parted as if to continue on and make some other cruel remark.  
Armitage leapt over the cooling, unmoving body to release Ben from the chair.

  
“Ben. You’re bleeding.”

  
Armitage kissed the crown of Ben’s head. He tasted salt and iron, but Ben was alive.

  
“Please take me home, Armitage.”

  
Blinking back his tears unsuccessfully, Armitage smiled into Ben's hair, “Of course. Of course, my darling.”

  
Ben circled his arms around Armitage’s shoulders, using his boyfriend to keep himself upright. They hobbled to the car to seek refuge at _**The Two Suns**_ bookstore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me, but is Ben's back talking to Phasma sound like some shit Adam would say?


	11. Look to the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Sexual Content Ahead~  
> "How can I not crave you?
> 
> “Hmm, you got me there. Is the front door locked?”
> 
> “I triple checked. Cross my heart.”

It had been several weeks since the killing of Gwendoline Phasma. It has also been several weeks since Brendol Hux disowned his only son.

  
Settled back in the town where Ben had grown up, only a couple blocks away from Ben’s parents—in a humble apartment sat Ben Solo and Armitage Hux on their new couch, channel searching on their television set.

  
Ben’s bruises had faded, even if the nightmares Ben had at night still haunt him, he was healing from the events that occurred back in the big city he once called home. Armitage would kiss and hold Ben late into the night to soothe his terror wracked mind. Armitage had brought up the concern that all this was his fault and that he understood if Ben never wanted to see him again. With a playful punch in the chest, Ben kissed Armitage, declaring that he couldn’t get away from meeting the rest of the Solo family THAT easily. While feeling a little guilty leaving his Uncle to manage his store once again, Ben could not longer stay there. On the bright side, his younger cousin Rey will be attending college in the city, so she can help around the shop.  
Armitage had put his father’s expectations and the mob life behind him, but not before plucking Dopheld Mitaka and Chef away from the Hux mansion.

  
Armitage had plenty of money stowed away in offshore banks, but Armitage insisted that he find another business excursion, one that was legal where he can employ his oldest friend, Dopheld. Of course, a manager type position taking in consideration Dopheld’s eye for detail. The now ex-Chef of the Hux family also parted ways to go retire with family in a neighboring town.  
Dopheld had taken up residence in his own apartment thanks to his savings from his old position at the Hux household, with also some cushion from Armitage of course. Dopheld and Ben had also become fast friends, sometimes even getting into mischief that Armitage couldn’t help but laugh at.

  
“Armitage?”

  
“Mm-hm?” Armitage mumbled in his throat.

  
“Did the mail come yet?”

  
Looking at his watch Armitage hoisted himself from the couch, once untangling himself from his boyfriend’s embrace, “let me go check.”

  
Armitage made his way to the mailbox that hung just outside their door, shifting through the junk mail and bill envelopes, he stopped dead in his tracts. He stared at the envelope. He knew this was the envelope Ben was waiting for.

  
“Is that it?”

  
“Yes.”

  
Ben’s stomach tied in knots, he reached out to take the letter from Armitage’s grasp, “here we go.”

  
“Now remember darling, no matter what happens, I love you and support you—”

  
“They like it.”

  
“What?!”

  
“They liked my proposal! Armitage! THEY LIKE IT!”

  
With giddy laughter filling the apartment, Ben jumped into the arms of his proud boyfriend, twirling in circles, they kissed in a joyful manner.

  
“Congratulations, Love! Now what?”

  
“Well it says that they liked my manuscript and want to meet whenever I am available to discuss any editing errors, typos—boring stuff like that. What kind of art I want for the cover, blah blah, other legal stuff—”

  
“Which I can help you with. I may not be a mob boss anymore but I have written up a few contracts in my life.”

  
Ben kissed Armitage’s chin, “thank you, Armitage.”

  
“You know, my dear, I do believe you deserve a celebration.”

  
“You’re right! We can go out to dinner with my parents, ooh and of course Dopheld!”

  
“Yes, yes of course, but I mean a more private celebration. Just you and me and our bed.”

  
Ben looked at Armitage with a quirked eyebrow, but also smiled, “when did you turn into such a filthy old man?”

  
“How can I not crave you?”

  
“Hmm, you got me there. Is the front door locked?”

  
“I triple checked. Cross my heart.”

  
Tugging on Armitage’s tie, Ben led his boyfriend into the room they shared. He drew the shades as Armitage closed the door behind him. With three sultry steps, Ben drew closer to kiss Armitage on the mouth. His tongue raking across Armitage’s bottom lip, tasting the honey sweetened tea his lover was drinking beforehand. Armitage’s hands found their way to the buttons of Ben’s trousers and slowly opened one by one. Ben hummed into Armitage’s mouth, smiling into the kiss. Armitage’s shirt, much like Ben’s bottom, crumpled to the floor, piling at their feet.

  
“How are you so gorgeous, Ben?”

  
Ben sat himself on the edge of the mattress, pulling himself backwards so his back met the headboard, he situated himself in a comfortable enough position to drag Armitage along with him.

  
Armitage’s mouth was hot and made Ben feel like he was melting into the bed. Molding himself in Armitage’s embrace, Ben wrapped his legs around the swab of the ginger haired man’s back. Armitage kicked off his bottoms as well, while he tore away Ben’s white tank top. Their lower halves rubbed sensually together, intermingling their respective wetness.  
Ben was breathing deeply and his eye lids grew heavy, lost in the bliss of Armitage’s touch.  
Once able to release himself from the wrappings of Ben’s legs, Armitage mouthed his way down Ben’s neck, chest, navel—his moistened lips hovering over Ben’s boxer shorts. Kissing the wet spot once then twice, Armitage pulled the material down, being the last interference of his prize. Ben was salty and thick; the head of his manhood was a light shade of purple and throbbed against his inner cheeks of his mouth.

  
Ben was slowly thrashing under Armitage’s hot breath. The wetness of his tongue and throat coiled around his cock, and every bob and weave of said mouth sent jolts up his spine.

  
“Armitage. Armitage, if you keep going I’ll cum.”

  
The ex-mob boss chuckled deep in his throat as he let Ben slip out of his mouth, “I thought that was the goal, Love.”

  
“I wanna cum with you while you’re inside me.”

  
“Then let’s get you ready. One moment.” Armitage gave Ben’s cock and inner thighs one last long lick before he disappeared into the bathroom, just as quickly as he left, he returned with the oil they preferred to use while being intimate, “it’s the strawberry flavored one.”

  
“Oooh, your favorite.”

  
“I think I like your taste even better.”

  
“Shut up and kiss me.”

  
Bringing their mouths together in a fiery display, Armitage was still able to click open the lid and allow the silky feeling liquid onto his fingers.

  
“May I?”

  
“God yes...”

  
Ben flipped himself onto his stomach, shoving a pillow under his hips to give Armitage a better angle to open him up. The red-haired lover first inserted one finger, thickly coated in the lubrication, slowly easing in and out until he felt Ben was ready for another finger. Grazing the pads of his fingers up against the slicked walls of Ben, Armitage can feel the muscles convulsing in need and readiness. Then three, then four. It was a slow process, but a process that only made Armitage’s cock grow harder, wetting his appetite for the main course. Ben’s ass was wet with the lubrication, but couldn’t help but bite each cheek playfully. He left angry red marks on each side, Ben groaned with each nibble.

  
“Armitage, I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

  
“Neither can I, darling. Turn back over. I want to see you while I make love to you.”

  
Ben made his way onto his back, keeping the pillow under his hips for his comfort as well as Armitage’s convenience. Kissing Ben one more time, Armitage wiggled his own leg in between Ben's spreaded ones. Mouthing each knee with a deep kiss first, he settled in a position beneficial to both of them. Armitage took a moment to kiss Ben fully on the mouth and then a small peck on the cheek before slowly pushing in. Like always, Ben was hot, searing hot on the inside. His muscles squeezed Armitage sinfully, that Armitage nearly lost himself before completing his first full thrust. With a small grunt, Ben gave a nod that he was ready. Armitage could not contain himself and bent Ben in half to allow himself access to Ben’s mouth once more. Bringing their hips together, Armitage began his strategic thrusting. Each movement caused Ben to moan; each consecutive push forward made Ben’s voice reach a higher and higher octave. 

Armitage’s knees shook as he moved faster and faster.

 

The bed squeaked and shook. Ben reached up to scratch at Armitage’s neck and shoulders. Red, hot tracks will most definitely mark Armitage’s pale white skin for hours to come after their love making session. Thrusting became erratic and uncountable. The squelch of the strawberry lubricate became lost to the ears of the two lovers; too encompassed with one another to even consider the lewd sound they were creating. 

  
“Armitage. I’m—I’m—!”

  
“I as well, darling. My Ben.”

  
Armitage’s thrusts were quick, unpredictable.

  
Ben’s moans were deep, tantalizing.

Reaching for one another, both men hit their euphoric note. Armitage took great care to not fall on Ben, but rather laid on his side to hold Ben in his arms. Their sweat and other fluids mingled. It was sticky and at times uncomfortable, but Ben wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else.

  
“I love you, Armitage.”

  
“And I you, Ben.”

  
After one last deep kiss, the two men decided to take a quick nap before showering. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story. Once again I would like to thank the-pudding-is-a-lie for the amazing art they worked on. Please go check them out on tumblr under the same name. I am considering writing short ficlets for this universe again, but only time will tell. Thank you once more and I hope you enjoyed this story. :)


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